


Detective Roger Davis and the Detective Roger Davis Detective Agency

by Banach_Tarski



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Detective Roger Davis, Detectives, Fake AH Crew, Humor, Technically a murder mystery but we know it was Ryan, gta v - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-05 10:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17323556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banach_Tarski/pseuds/Banach_Tarski
Summary: Ryan accidentally causes an international incident and the whole crew has to go underground for a while.Armed with fake cover stories as detectives for a private detective agency, all they have to do is lie low for a few weeks until the heat dies down.But that's not Detective Roger Davis' style.





	1. So What Does A Detective Do, Anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Joyful_Bones for showing me the wonder that is Detective Roger Davis.

“So we’re all in agreement, then.” Geoff said. “This is Ryan’s fault.”

“Excuse me?” Ryan said, offended. “You’re the one who told me to do the hit. And I followed your orders.”

“No, I agree with Geoff.” Michael said. “We can definitely pin this on you.”

“I killed the guy! I made it look like a suicide! What more do you want from me?”

“You burned his cabin down, you really didn’t think anyone would think that was a bit sus?”

“People accidentally burn their houses down! It happens!”

“Not to fucking foreign big-wigs! With security teams!”

“Shit, shitting-“ Gavin swore as he almost dropped a box. He managed to catch it against his hip and the front door frame.

Jeremy stood behind him with another box, waiting.

“You need any help there, pal?”

“Nope, m’ good.”

“Then get out of the fucking doorway.”

Jack swooped in and grabbed the box before Gavin could drop it further.

“Grenades.” Jack said, flicking her hair out of her face. “There are grenades in this box.”

“And the pins aren’t gonna fall out if they’re dropped, Jack, God that would be terrible grenade design.”

Jack kicked Jeremy behind the knee and his leg buckled. Jack slid around him and pushed Gavin through the doorway, letting herself in after him.

The interior of the building was already filled with boxes, but there was room for a few more. The six Fakes deposited their last boxes and took a breather in the entry way. Each movement brought up a small cloud of dust that made Ryan wrinkle his nose. This was the first activity this building had seen in years.

Each box was filled with incriminating evidence of the Fake’s activities, most of it weaponry and ammunition, the rest important documents and records necessary to run the most powerful gang in Los Santos.

The boxes, instead of stored safely away in various safehouses, were now stored in this dinky little office in Downtown Los Santos for the foreseeable future. Probably for a few weeks, a month at the most, because the city was now absolutely crawling with foreign investigators on their tail.

The city had been cast into an uncomfortable limelight because of the murder and crews and police alike were trying to keep attention off themselves. A _lot_ of paper shuffling had occurred in the last few hours, on both sides of the law.

Look, how was Ryan supposed to know they’d care so much about one measly heir? He wasn’t even first in line to inherit anything. Honestly, Ryan was surprised one murder could cause this much trouble.

And the foreign investigators were _good_. Once word had got out that the Vagabond had committed the murder (not that the local police had any evidence- fire was good like that) they’d found half a dozen minor crewmembers and a few safehouses within twelve hours of arriving on the island.

This, obviously, scared the shit out of Geoff who then forced Gavin to use one of his best cover stories to get them out of the heat. They’d packed up as much as they could and headed to a small office building owned by Jack where they could lay low for a few weeks. Gavin had provided them with fake IDs, backstories, and careers, to help maintain an illusion of legitimacy.

For a bit of a laugh, Gavin had made them all detectives who worked for a fake detective agency. The initial plan was to have Geoff lead the business with three junior detectives, a secretary, and a landlord, but Geoff quickly sidestepped any responsibility. In the end, Ryan took over the agency and with the help of Michael, managed Jeremy and Gavin as junior detectives. Geoff wanted to be the secretary and Jack didn’t really want a part in it and so became the landlord.

And thus, the Detective Roger Davis Detective Agency was born.

“So,” Jeremy asked, “What exactly does a detective do, anyway? I’m not doing this if it involves a lot of paperwork. I didn’t have _any_ in my last job and I refuse to learn how.”

“This is why you’re a junior detective.” Ryan said, shaking his head. “You and me, we’re gonna solve crimes. Really give back to the community. For money.”

“Yeah.” Michael said. “Who knows better how find criminals than the best of the best? It’ll be fun, isn’t that right Gavvy?”

“This will only work if we stick to our characters.” Gavin said. “Ryan: you’re Roger Davis. I’m Gavin Freeman. Jeremy-” Gavin sighed- “is Remi Tim.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael said. “I’ll read the documents with the details later. How do we start? Do we have to go find a crime?”

“No! Wait,” Geoff said, pulling out his phone, “That’s my job now. Gavin set up a website and I’ve already got some emails from some guys with potential cases. I’ll send across everything that looks good.”

“You’d better,” Ryan said, “or you’d be a pretty shitty secretary.”

“Oh shut up, I’m still your boss.”

“Right, sorry.”

“No, no, you’re right. I shouldn’t do this both ways. Okay Mr Davis boss sir, may I send some interested clients to you, dear sir?”

“Um-“

“Can I get you a coffee? Foot massage?”

“Christ alive.” Jack said. “I’m going to start putting these boxes in the back rooms and out of sight of any random who walks in the door. Can you all just promise not to do anything to destructive until the foreign investigators fuck off?”

“Of course.” Michael said. “We’re detectives.”

“Detective.” Jeremy tipped an imaginary hat to Gavin.

“Detective.” Gavin returned the motion and did the same thing to Michael.

“Detective.”

“Detective.” Michael replied, a smirk on his face.

Jack rolled her eyes.

 

* * *

 

“Here,” Ryan said to Jeremy, “I need you to hold onto these for me.”

He passed Jeremy a stack of business cards.

Jeremy flipped over the top one and read it.

“Detective Roger Davis Detective Agency. When did you get time to get these printed?”

“Did it online last night. Now we can pass out business cards to potential clients.”

“But… they all have your fake name on it. What about ones with mine?”

“Look, the people are interested in getting in contact with the top guy.” Ryan explained. “That’s me, Detective Roger Davis.”

“Do you have to say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, you’re just saying it weird.”

“This is just how Detective Roger Davis talks.”

“Are you gonna keep that accent up for however long we’re doing this?”

“Just in front of clients… and suspects.”

Geoff rapped on the doorframe and called into Ryan’s office.

“Oi! Davis! Your client’s here!”

“Send him in!”

A small, timid looking man entered the office and sat down on a chair. Ryan stood up from behind his desk and shook the man’s hand. Jeremy leaned against a wall and crossed his arms.

“You’re… Dirk, aren’t you?” Ryan said.

“Yes, we spoke on the phone yesterday.”

“Can I offer you a business card?”

“Uh, sure.”

Ryan handed one over and Dirk dutifully put it in his wallet.

“So you’re-“

“Detective Roger Davis of the Detective Roger Davis Detective Agency.”

“…Right. So you can help me find my son?”

“I can. My partner Remi and I have seen everything Los Santos has to offer and clashed with its most hardened criminals. If he was taken by someone unscrupulous, and he’s still in the city, we’ll find him.”

Dirk leaned towards the desk and pulled out his phone. “My son was involved in a gang called The Kneecaps, and I haven’t seen him since last week. Here, I have a photo.”

Dirk showed Ryan the screen and Ryan frowned. Dirk showed the screen to Jeremy next and Ryan and Jeremy shared a look.

Ryan and Jeremy had definitely seen that face before. Ryan killed him last week and dumped his body in a creek.

Since then, The Kneecaps hadn’t caused the Fakes any more problems, but that was hardly going to please the guy’s father.

“Well?” Dirk asked. “Can you help? I don’t have a lot of money, but I do have some jewellery that’s been in the family for a few generations. It’s worth something.”

Ryan and Jeremy exchanged another look.

“…Of course.” Jeremy said.

“How about you, uh,” Ryan said, “step into the back room with us, and we’ll explain how this all works…”

 

* * *

 

Two hours later they rolled Dirk in a carpet and dumped his body in a creek. The same creek, Ryan made sure. Felt right, keeping them together.

“So that could have gone a lot worse.” Jeremy said. He held a necklace up to his eyes, looking at the sunlight play across it. “Dunno what we’re going to tell Geoff when get back. Jack’s not going to be impressed either.”

“Detective Roger Davis doesn’t have a boss to report to.” Ryan said. “If they ask, we’ll say we handled it.”

“Which we did, technically.”

“Yep.”

“God, being a detective is a lot of fun.”

“Yes it is, Remi. Yes it is.”

 

* * *

 

“Detective,” Michael said, tipping a real hat as he walked through the front door.

“Detective.” Ryan said back. “How did your first case go?”

“Turns out the wife was right, her husband was cheating on her. Gavin seduced him at a bar, I took some pictures and showed them to the wife. She… wasn’t too happy at the revelation, I guess. Cussed us out a lot. Kind of rude to be honest.”

Geoff flicked a paper ball at Michael from behind his desk.

“Of course not, asshole. Jesus Christ, this is why I don’t let you make the plans when we heist.”

“She shouldn’t have been mad at us, she should have been mad at her cheating husband! Besides, I don’t hear you chewing out Ryan.”

Geoff narrowed his eyes at Ryan.

“What did you do, Ryan?”

“Nothing!” Ryan spluttered. “Jeremy and I, uh, handled it.”

“You handled it.”

“Yep.” Ryan replied, popping the p sound. “No problems on our end.”

“So you don’t mind giving this stack of forms to Dirk next time you see him?”

“That… isn’t… possible anymore.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“Ryan.”

“It’s Detective Roger Davis while we’re at work.”

Geoff leaned back in his chair.

“Ryan.”

“Yes.”

“What was the one thing Jack told you not to do while we’re hiding here?”

“Technically, it wasn’t destructive. There were no explosions. And we got some sweet jewellery out of the whole thing-“

Michael burst out laughing at this point, unable to contain it any longer.

“I was talking about using Geoff’s money to buy business cards! Did you _murder_ your first client?”

“It was my only choice!”

“You used my money to buy those hideous things?!” Geoff shouted.

“It’s company money!”

“This isn’t even a real company, Ryan!”

“Um,” A small voice said, “are you open?”

Three heads swivelled around.

A young woman was standing in the doorway, looking in.

“Yes!” Geoff said.

“Are you sure? Because you just said-”

-“Pretty sure. This isn’t a company because, we, uh, we don’t have shares. Yet.”

“I need to speak to a detective. Please, it’s urgent.”

“Yes, we have those. This is Detective Roger Davis, but we call him Ryan when he’s bad. And this is Detective M. O’Gar. How can we help you?”

“I think my landlord is doing something shady. A bunch of different people go in and out of this one specific room in the building, and they’re carrying all sorts of packages with them. I think he’s a drug lord. Can you help? I went to the police about it but they said they’re too busy with the foreign murder.”

“This sounds like a job for Detective Roger Davis.” Ryan said. “And his junior detective. Come on, we’ll go to my office and talk more.”

Jeremy was already in there, lounging against Ryan’s desk and scrolling away on his phone. When Ryan and the young woman entered, he straightened up and put on a professional smile.

“So, a drug lord, yeah? Sorry, these offices aren’t soundproofed at all.”

She nodded. “My name’s Meg. Can you get enough evidence so that the police will take me seriously? I’ll give you details about the building and when he’ll probably be away, if that helps.”

“It would,” Ryan said, “And we’d be happy to help.”

“Great,” Meg said, “The guy’s a prick and I want to see him go down.”

An idea came to Ryan.

“It’d be best if we gave the evidence to the police as well.” Ryan continued. “We’re fully registered, I found out yesterday, so it’ll look best coming from us.”

Meg nodded. Jeremy tapped on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Uh, Davis, are you sure that’s-“

-“That’s Detective Roger Davis to you, and I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Ryan flashed Jeremy a smile that was all teeth.


	2. I'm Detecting a Bit of a Bad Attitude

“Forty… forty-two… forty four…”

“It’s that one.” Ryan pointed further down the hall. “Because it’s apartment number fifty. I don’t see why we have to count out each door as we pass it.”

“For fun, Ryan. I’m bored out of my mind.”

“That’s Detective Roger Davis to you, Remi.”

“I thought we could drop the names when we weren’t speaking to clients?”

“Or suspects. But we’re on a case now, and that demands a certain level of professionalism.”

Jeremy looked like he was about to say something that fell outside the bounds of professionalism, but held his tongue.

Ryan knocked on apartment number fifty. They lingered outside for a few minutes until it became apparent no-one was going to answer.

“Meg’s intel was accurate.” Ryan said, mostly to himself. “Alright, Remi. Kick her down.”

Jeremy aimed a solid kick right next to the lock and the door smacked open. Checking the rest of the hallway was clear, they stepped inside, gently closing the door behind them.

The landlord’s apartment was a mess. Rubbish everywhere, piles of boxes stacked haphazardly on furniture, and a cloyingly strong smell of air freshener hung in the air.

“I can’t believe detectives are allowed to do things like this,” Jeremy said, and shot a questioning glance at Ryan.

“Well look at the time, we’ve got about an hour until the landlord should be back. Should get to it.” Ryan said in lieu of answering Jeremy while also refusing to meet his eyes.

“This place smells like the time when Gavin couldn’t get the blood out of his new car that one time.”

“Good, photographs of blood make great evidence.”

“It's not about the blood, dipshit, it’s about trying to hide a smell. This guy’s hiding something.”

“Probably in the fifty boxes in his living room.”

They opened a few and discovered the boxes were filled with smaller boxes of incense. Many of them hadn’t been packaged properly and were the source of the smell.

“Well, shit.” Ryan said. “There were meant to be drugs in here. Would have made my job a lot easier.”

“We’ll just have to look for a paper trail then.” Jeremy said. “Let’s split up and look around, shall we?”

“Absolutely not.” Ryan argued. “You’re a junior detective. How do I know you’re not going to miss something?”

Jeremy sighed. “And how much more detective experience do you have than me, huh?”

“I have more… experience experience.”

“More experience experience? Doesn’t that just mean you’re older than me?”

“And don’t you forget it.”

“Ryan when this is over I’m going to beat the shit out of you. I’m going to look for clues in the bedroom.”

“You need to be written up for insubordination!” Ryan called out after him.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Laughing, Ryan followed him into the bedroom. Jeremy had already begun poking at a laptop on a desk, and Ryan stood behind him to watch.

“Yep… It’s a laptop.” Jeremy said. “Needs a password, of course. I don’t know how to hack these things, should we call Gavin?”

Ryan cast a quick glance over the desk, checking just in case there was a bit of paper with a password on it. People've started saying it’s safer than storing them online nowadays. There was nothing, though, which wasn’t a problem for a detective such as Detective Roger Davis.

All it meant was Ryan could use his plan B.

“We don’t need Gavin to hack that laptop,” Ryan said. “We can hack it the Detective Roger Davis way.”

 

* * *

 

“What’s the _fucking_ password?!” Ryan shouted, brandishing his gun.

“It’s Bucket420!” The landlord told him, shaking in his seat on the lounge. “Please don’t kill me!”

Jeremy typed the password in and the laptop unlocked.

“Detective,” Jeremy said, “that was the best goddamn hacking I’ve ever seen.”

“D-detective?” the landlord said. He sniffed, and a little more blood dripped out of his freshly broken nose. “I thought you were the Vagabond.”

“No idea who that is.” Ryan said. “I’m Detective Roger Davis.”

“...Right. Are you going to kill me?”

“Nope. That’s not what detectives do. Probably. I assume self-defence laws still apply, though.”

“We’re, uh,” Jeremy said, “looking for evidence first and foremost. We’ll give it to the police and they’ll come here and arrest you. Then we get paid.”

“Unless, of course,” Ryan continued, “you try to run before the police come. That would be... unfortunate.”

The landlord nodded furiously.

“But you'll tell them it was an accident, right?”

Jeremy frowned. “What was?”

“Because that's what it was! It all happened so quickly. She was high on something and came at me. I didn't have a choice!”

Jeremy screwed up his face even more.

“Did you kill someone? Are you confessing to a murder right now?”

“That’s… not what you’re finding evidence for?”

“Aren’t you a druglord?”

“No, my wife handles that side of things. Well, she did…”

Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“You killed your wife, didn’t you.”

The landlord nodded glumly.

“She’s in all those boxes out front.”

“The incense?”

“Covering the smell. I was gonna mail the boxes to her enemies. They’d probably get picked up by postal services and police would investigate the addresses.”

“Wait, shit,” Jeremy said, fumbling for his phone, “We should probably be recording this. Fuck though, that’s a great idea. Why haven’t we done something like that yet?”

The landlord frowned at Jeremy.

“Jesus Christ, Remi,” Ryan said, and turned to the landlord, “Sorry about him, he’s new here.”-

-“Fuck off.” Jeremy flipped Ryan off.

“So you were trying to remove your wife’s competition, am I right?”

The landlord nodded.

“I presume, to take over her business in her stead. Very clever. But not cleverer than Detective Roger Davis.”

“Look, Detectives,” the landlord said, “You’re doing this for money, right? That’s what you said? Not for the Greater Good or anything. Is there a way I could convince you to maybe let this slide? There might be a cut in the profits for you if you leave that laptop here.”

Ryan and Jeremy exchanged a look.

“Give us something upfront and we’ll think about it.” Ryan lied.

The landlord nodded again, and pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy placed the laptop on the front counter of the police station. He leaned heavily against the wood of the countertop, smiling warmly at the receptionist.

“One evidence, for your viewing pleasure.”

The receptionist stared back at him with dead eyes. She picked up the post-it note stuck to the front with the password on it.

“Evidence of what?”

“Crime.” Ryan answered. “It’s all in there. Paper trail, records of meetings and goods traded. Goons hired to protect transport. One extensive drug operation all neatly wrapped in a bow for you.”

“… Yours?”

“Heavens no,” Ryan said with a smile matching Jeremy’s intensity. “If I ran a massive drug operation in Los Santos I wouldn’t do it from a shitty apartment in the bad end of Downtown with an easily hackable laptop. I would utilise the under-patrolled east coast for production in the highlands and easy transport to the city, and do my major transactions over international waters.”

“… Right. And you two are…?”

“Detective Roger Davis from the Detective Roger Davis Detective Agency, and my junior partner Remi Tim. Here, I have a business card.”

Ryan slid one across the wood but the receptionist made no move to take it.

“We’re not working with any private detectives at this time, all our resources are focused on the assassination of the foreign heir. We can’t spare the officers for a potential drug operation for at least a few weeks.”

Jeremy leaned closer. “Maybe you should hire some, then, if you can’t make time yourselves to investigate a drug ring.”

The receptionist narrowed her eyes at Jeremy.

“Did one of you say that laptop was easily hackable? Did you break into that laptop yourselves?”

“With the most advanced hacking techniques available. No need to thank us.”

“Even if you’re private detectives, that’s still a crime. You can’t illegally seize another person’s property. You’ve come here, to the lock-up, instead of making a statement with the investigators over in our drug unit, and you’ve tampered with something that could be evidence, but you haven’t filled out the proper forms or obtained the correct warrant. Are you sure you’re private detectives?”

“Um,” Jeremy said, and Ryan saw sweat beading on his forehead.

A small group of police officers rounded a corner and approached reception, chatting amongst themselves.

Eyes lighting up, Ryan grabbed the laptop and offered the receptionist his coldest smile.

“I’m sure if you looked up the Detective Roger Davis Detective Agency, you’ll see we have all the proper credentials. But if you can’t make time to look into this, we’ll just have to handle it ourselves.”

“Jesus Christ!” One of the approaching officers exclaimed, spotting Ryan and Jeremy. “The Fakes are here!”

The air filled with drawn handguns.

Ryan flashed the officers his broadest grin and greeted them warmly.

“Good afternoon, fellow servants of the law.”

“Cut the crap, Haywood.” Office Burns gestured for him to raise his hands, and Ryan and Jeremy did so. Jeremy cast a concerned look at Ryan, but he still hadn’t taken that smug smile off his face.

“Why, Burns, I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Ryan replied. Jeremy mirrored his casual posture.

None of the officer’s guns wavered.

“You’re Ryan fucking Haywood and Jeremy fucking Dooley.” Officer Burns said. “You two Fakes have a lot of fucking nerve to walk in here without a pair of handcuffs on your wrists.”

“There’s nothing Fake about us.” Jeremy said. “We have the proper documentation and everything.”

Jeremy slowly lowered a hand into his pocket and back out, withdrawing his wallet. He opened it and flicked it onto the ground, revealing a driver’s license, library card, and credit card, all with the name Remi Tim written on them.

Gavin had really gone above and beyond for these covers. Ryan would have to thank him properly. Maybe print him off some business cards.

“They’re right.” The receptionist said, spinning her computer screen around to face the officers. “Their story checks out. Detective Roger Davis Detective Agency, operating since 2003.”

Officer Burns cast a glance at the officer to his left, who Ryan had noticed was one of the foreign investigators. She was watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow, but made no move to interfere or point her gun.

Slowly, Burns put his gun away, grinding his teeth as he did. The other officers followed suit.

Somehow, Ryan’s grin grew broader.

“It… appears… I was mistaken.” Burns forced out. “If you’re not that despicable Vagabond or Rimmy Tim, then who are you?”

“I’m so glad you asked.”

Ryan passed the laptop to Jeremy and swaggered over to Burns.

“Detective Roger Davis from the Detective Roger Davis Detective Agency. At your service.”

Officer Burns’ hands clenched so hard it was a miracle that nothing inside them ruptured.

“Mr Davis-“

-“That’s Detective Davis, thank you.”

Officer Burns took a deep breath.

“Detective. You wouldn’t happen to have any information about the whereabouts of our prime suspect in the foreign heir murder, Ryan Haywood, the Vagabond?”

Ryan shook his head slowly. “Can’t say I do. But if you want my help, here’s my business card.”

Ryan slipped a business card into Officer Burns’ breast pocket, and gave it a little pat before pulling away.

Officer Burns turned the colour of roasted beetroot.

With a mock salute, Ryan and Jeremy walked out of the police station.

Once they were out of earshot, Jeremy burst out laughing.

“Oh my God! They could have killed us!”

“Not without proper cause, with all the foreign investigators around. The Los Santos Police can’t put a toe out of line. Sometimes I truly love paperwork.”

“So what happens to the landlord now?”

“If the police won’t do anything about him, I guess we should, right? I mean, that’s what we told the receptionist anyway. We owe it to our client.”

“Oh shit.” Jeremy said.

“What?”

“Should we have told them about the murder? The landlord’s wife?”

“Shit. Well, it’s too late now. We’re already at the car.”

They hopped in and peeled away from the curb, entering the flow of heavy traffic. Predictably, the police followed them for about fifteen minutes until Jeremy could lose them in a carpark.

“They fall for the same trick every damn time.” Jeremy said. “So what do you wanna do, Ryan? We could probably get the landlord to turn himself in. The police won’t ignore a confession like that, especially if a murder’s involved. They’re big on solving murders right now.”

Ryan inclined his head. “We certainly _could_ do that, but I have a better idea.”

 

* * *

 

Four hours later Ryan rolled the landlord in a carpet and dumped his body in the creek.

A couple of minutes later Jeremy pulled up next to him in a stolen car.

“Easy as that.” Ryan said, pointing to the vague shape beneath the water. “And you mailed all the packages from different post boxes?”

Jeremy nodded and sat down next to him on the bank. “You got all the drugs?”

“In the boot. The landlord’s warehouse was otherwise empty.”

“Good. That laptop really came in handy.” Jeremy said.

“Potentially wiped out a little competition and we’ve got some extra supply to distribute. And you remembered to text the client that her job was complete. All in a good day’s detective work.”

“Think I’ll get a promotion then, Ryan?” Jeremy said slyly.

“Not a chance.”

“A bonus then?”

“The next guy I throw in this creek, you can have what’s in his wallet.”

“How kind of you.”

“That’s how kind of you Detective Roger Davis, to you.” Ryan picked up a smooth flat stone and weighed it in his hand thoughtfully.

Jeremy pulled a face and gave Ryan a playful shove.

“Okay Ryan, you need to seriously stop with the Detective Roger Davis stuff. I’m about three seconds away from rolling your body in a carpet and pushing _you_ in the creek.”

Ryan sighed, and skipped the stone across the creek. It skimmed the surface seven or eight times before falling in the water well short of the opposite shore. Jeremy tossed his own stone and looked at Ryan when it clattered against some rocks on the far bank.

Ryan passed him another rock and stared into the murky creek water.

“If you could be anyone in the world, who would you be?”

Jeremy frowned. “I don’t know. I’ll need to think about it.”

“Wouldn’t you want to be someone with fewer issues? Less baggage?”

“I mean…”

“Detective Roger Davis has a clean slate. I can just… wipe it all away, you know?”

Jeremy leaned back and uncrossed his legs.

“Me n’ the other Fakes like who you are, Ryan.” Jeremy told him. “Baggage and all. You don’t need to suddenly become someone else, okay?”

“Except for these next few weeks.”

“Except for now, yeah. But not all the time. Don’t go getting too caught up in the Detective persona, okay?”

Ryan scoffed.

“Me? Get caught up in a persona? How dare you.”

Jeremy smirked, stood up, and heaved Ryan into the creek.

 

* * *

 

Still mostly damp, Ryan and Jeremy tried to avoid dripping creek water onto the boxes of drugs as they carried them into the agency.

“Oh Jack!” Jeremy sing-songed, only to stop dead when he noticed how many people were waiting in the entryway. “Uh, Jack?”

A frazzled Geoff waved them down over the herd of people.

“Detectives!” Geoff called out. “Over here! I’ve been trying to contact you for an hour!”

Jeremy drew in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Oh have you?” Ryan said. “I can’t wait to explain why I couldn’t answer my phone, just after Remi and I… put away this evidence.”

“Yes.” Jeremy said. “Evidence.”

“Yep.” Ryan confirmed. “Preferably _away_ from the general public, you know.”

“I don’t care what’s in those boxes.” Geoff said. “I want you to talk to these people and get them out of my building, okay?”

“Jack’s building.” Jeremy said.

Geoff shot him a withering look. “Apparently that client of yours has already spread the word that this agency actually gets results.”

“But the detectives don’t get showers, clearly.” Jeremy muttered under his breath.

“We do get results.” Ryan said. “On an unrelated note, we need to increase the budget to include more carpets.”

“Do I want to know why?” Geoff asked.

“No.”

“Fair enough. Hurry up and get these people to move, okay? It’s getting really warm in here.”

“Gavin and M. O-Gar not helping?”

“They’re on another case. I dunno what it was about, but they decided they needed to bring grenades.”

“M. O’Gar will make a great detective out of Gavin, it seems.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now go on, that couple there’s been waiting almost four hours for you to get here.”

“Sure, Geoff.” Jeremy flicked his head in the direction of Ryan’s office and the couple timidly followed them in.

Ryan dumped his boxes on the floor next to his desk and rested his foot on one of them. A little bit of creek water dripped onto the old carpet.

Ryan gave the couple a genuine smile.

“How can I help you folks?”


	3. And Now for Some Actual Detective Work

Jeremy dropped his head to the desk. “I don’t wanna be a detective anymore, Ryan.”

Ryan’s office was covered in paper. Paper and boxes. But the paper was causing the most problems, because each piece was a form in need of filling in. There was a stack of them for each client.

So many clients came in last week that Ryan and Jeremy were severely behind in filling all the forms out. The two detectives sat on either side of Ryan’s desk, passing papers between them.

“We need to email Mr Gently again.” Ryan said. “He’s given us the wrong phone number.”

“Again?”

“Again.” Ryan slid the document across to the other side of the desk, onto Jeremy’s open hand. Jeremy inspected it and sighed.

“It only has seven digits in it. Has the man never filled in an emergency contact form before? What did we even do for him anyway?”

“Intimidated his brother’s girlfriend’s brother about the drug dealing. He sent us the fruit flan.”

“Oh, the fruit flan guy. You put on the form we investigated the brother’s girlfriend’s boyfriend for infidelity, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll add him to the list.” Jeremy said, and put it on a pile. From another, he picked up a yellow form. “Samantha Cartlight, we killed her abusive ex-girlfriend. What should I put for the reason for her enquiry?”

Ryan leaned back in his chair. “Say we investigated whether the ex was stalking her or not. We got caught spying, and the ex made a run for it. That’s why no-one’s seen her since.”

Jeremy nodded and filled in the form. “I miss being part of a criminal empire. We could just do stuff.”

“There was certainly less paperwork. Oh, and we need to call Samantha back anyway because her address details have changed. Add her to the list.”

The shitty intercom buzzed.

“Uh, detectives?” Geoff’s tinny voice said through the speaker. “We’ve got uh, new clients for you. They’re heading your way now.”

“We’re not taking new clients right now, Geoff,” Ryan said, “we’ve got too much-“

Officer Burns knocked on the doorframe, paused for a polite second, then let himself in. A second officer waited outside.

“Ah, Detective David!” Burns said, beaming. “Just the detective I wanted to see. And his wonderful assistant.”

Ryan sat up straight in his chair. His hand made a move for a desk drawer, but he restrained himself. “Officer Burns. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Burns put a hand on the back of Jeremy’s chair and drummed his fingers against the wood. With a frown, Jeremy stood up and leaned against the wall instead. They waited while Burns made himself comfortable.

“Well, Dennis, I realised you were right.” Burns said. He put his feet up on the desk, getting dirt on the paperwork.

“You did?” Jeremy said.

“Yep.” Burns said, popping the p. “The entire Los Santos Police Department were foolish for not accepting the help of such esteemed detectives such as yourselves. There’s one case, after all, the officers here and the international investigators are stuck on. You might’ve heard about the foreign heir murder?”

Ryan and Jeremy looked at each other.

“I think it may have been on the news once or twice, the last fortnight or so.” Ryan said. “I think there might’ve been particular attention paid to how little progress you and the international investigators have been making, and how your regular police work is suffering.”

Cool as a cucumber, Burns pressed on. “I have a feeling, Detective Darius, that you might be the guy to shed some new light on the murder. For the greater good, and all that.”

“And so the international investigators will stop breathing down your neck.” Jeremy added.

“The foreign investigators have been nothing but helpful in this matter. But if you two don’t have any leads, I guess it’ll turn into a cold case and I’ll have to focus on other things.”

“So sorry we can’t assist you.” Ryan said.

Officer Burns pulled something from a coat pocket.

“Other things like,” Burns held up an evidence bag with a sodden business card inside, “investigating the murder of the guy carrying this business card. We found him in a creek a couple of days ago, and this just came in from forensics. Looks an awful lot like one of your business cards, doesn’t it?”

It did.

“I’m trying to piece together a timeline,” Burns continued, “and we know this guy, the dad of some gang member, came to your office at some point, but it gets fuzzy after that. Might you know where he went after you spoke to him, Denny?”

“Can’t say I do.” Ryan replied with steel in his voice.

“Well that’s a shame, really, because we’ve got enough evidence already to order a court to give us a warrant to rip this place apart. If only my officers were too busy to really dive into another murder. We don’t need to investigate this place top to bottom, do we?”

Ryan’s eyes slid to the box next to him, which contained about a dozen grenades.

“… Funny, now you mention it, I think we might be able to help with the foreign heir murder. Heard a rumour a few days back. Might be worth looking into.”

Burns grinned like a shark. “Funny, I thought you’d end up saying something like that. I expect results on my desk in three days at most, or I start investigating other things. You know how we detectives get, always needing a new and exciting case. One goes cold and we get a little twitchy.”

“Of course.” Ryan said through gritted teeth.

“Great.” Burns slid his feet off the desk and walked towards the door. “The LSPD really appreciates your cooperation.”

“Any. Time.” Ryan said, and Burns and the other officer left.

Once they were out of earshot Jeremy slumped over and regained his chair.

“Oh, fuck, we’re fucked.” Jeremy said. “We’re so fucked.”

Ryan neatened the papers thrown into disarray from the officer’s boots. He frowned to himself, thinking.

“We’re fine, Jeremy.” Ryan said. “If they could’ve searched this place they would’ve done so, and skipped that whole song and dance. We have a bit of time.”

“Time to do what, exactly? Pack our shit and get out of here before Burns changes his mind? Find the Vagabond and turn him in to the international investigators? Over my dead body.”

Ryan pulled a blind back and stared out the window, squinting a little past the glare. “Burns left, but the other officer is watching us from his car. Running’s probably out of the equation.”

“I’m not turning you in, Ryan. And I doubt anyone else in the crew would either. But we can’t fend off both the police and the international investigators. We just don’t have the manpower.”

Ryan frowned again, deeper, more thoughtful. Then he relaxed.

“Well someone paid me to off the heir. How about we find them?”

“Oh, and we’re gonna have better luck than the entire LSPD detective division _and_ the international investigators. The same investigators that have the police scared straight, as well as most of the criminals in the city. You’re also forgetting _we’re not actual detectives_.”

“We’ve solved cases!”

“Cases that people give us because we’re better at dispensing justice than the police right now! Mostly we just kill people! With paperwork afterwards!”

“Well _excuse me_ for doing what I do best. Look, just shut up a second. We do actually have something no one else does.”

“Oh really.”

“I mean,” Ryan mumbled, “I have the guy who paid me’s email address. We had to discuss details before the murder, location of the heir and payment and stuff. That should probably help?”

Jeremy shrugged. “That’s… yeah, actually. Good. Gavin might be able to do something with it. Speaking of, we need to let everyone know what’s going on. I also imagine Geoff will want to yell at you.”

Ryan clicked his tongue and pulled a face. “That’s true.”

“Who could have possibly predicted this. Ryan murdered someone and it caused problems for the rest of the crew.”

“Hey, you helped out! You’re an accomplice!”

“It was still your idea! We didn’t have to kill the guy. Have you considered going on some sort of murder… vacation? Murder holiday? Something like that?”

“Like a murder hiatus? Don’t be ridiculous. Murder is one of Detective Roger Davis’s unique skills.”

Jeremy sighed. “I swear to God, Ryan, can we please do this one thing without all the pomp and-“

“-We only have three days to find the real murderer. Come on, let’s get the others.”

Jeremy sighed again, this time with an exaggerated exhale. “Fine. Just, fine.”

 

* * *

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ryan,” Geoff said, “all you had to do was keep your head down for like three weeks and you just couldn’t do it. You have one job to do here, and it's not _let's play detective_. It's hide from the cops, as well as the extra, highly trained, out for your blood, foreign cops.”

“in my defence-"

“- You waltzed into a _police station_ and gave them your _business card_. To hand in evidence against a guy you ended up murdering anyway. You're lucky the whole lot of them haven’t blown this place to kingdom come yet.”

“But that’s the thing, Geoff,” Ryan argued, “that’s not following procedure. We were totally in the clear until Burns found that body. He's just, unfortunately for us, smart enough to use it to find the real killer all along.”

“So was this all a set up?” Jack asked. “Not to scare you out of hiding, but to get the guy who paid you? All the news has been talking about is the hunt for the Vagabond this, hunt the Vagabond that.”

Gavin raised his hand. “Is it too late to flee the country?”

Michael shoved him. “Stop suggesting that every time something goes wrong.”

“Can’t while we’re being watched. But we don’t need to go anywhere,” Jeremy said. “Ryan's got the guy's email address. We find out who ordered the hit and the police and international investigators leave us the fuck alone. Everything returns to normal.”

Geoff’s head hit the reception desk with a soft _thump._ “And we can’t just shoot our way out of this?”

“Not with the international cops here too. That’s literally why we’re sitting here right now.”

“Hrrrrngh.” Geoff said, muffled by the desk. He lifted his chin up to be heard better. “Okay. Gavin, see if you can find out who owns that email address. Everyone else, we’ve got cops watching the building so you all’d better do the best job you can pretending to be detectives. Don’t give them a legitimate reason to search the building. Jack ‘n I will get everything ready to move as soon as we’re able to. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Geoff.” The rest of them chorused.

“Actually, Ryan, you stay here. I’m not done yelling at you yet.”

Ryan slumped. “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

A few hours of paperwork later, Jack stormed inside Ryan’s office and threw a stack of papers onto his desk.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Ryan,” she said, and directed his attention to the email chain she’d slammed on his desk.

“Kind of rude, Jack.” Ryan said. He really wasn’t in the mood to be yelled at again, even if she was right to do so. Which she probably was.

She usually was.

“ _He’s always watched that dumb monster hunting show every Sunday night,_ ” Jack read out, “ _every week for a decade. He’ll be in the cabin. God, I can’t wait to get this over and done with. I have to get rid of him before he does the same to me, you know?_ ”

“…Yes?” Ryan said. “That’s how I knew he’d be home.”

“Who would know the heir’s shitty TV habits from a decade ago and also be worried about getting murdered themselves?”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“The first in line, the older brother.”

“Yes.”

“Would that count as self-defence?” Jeremy asked. “If he was worried about getting murdered himself. The first in line, I mean. That’s a lot of murder in that family. Not a good look.”

“No, absolutely no.” Jack said. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Jesus.”

“This is good,” Ryan said, “I can just give the police these and then everything’s sorted.”

“Not quite. How do you explain how you got them?”

Ryan scratched at his beard. “Maybe I don’t know much about detective work”- Jeremy snorted- “but I do know a thing or two about covering my tracks. Planting evidence. I’ll think of something.”

“I already have an idea that’s better.” Jeremy said. “You’ve already done enough damage.”

“I agree with Jeremy.” Jack said.

Ryan pouted. “Well, fine.”

 

* * *

 

Bright and early the next morning, Ryan and Jeremy walked into the police station like they owned the place.

“Oh God, oh fuck,” the receptionist mumbled as she crouched behind the counter, “the Vagabond’s back.”

“The name doesn’t ring a bell.” Ryan said. “I’m Detective Roger Davis, and I’ve solved your murder.”

“ _My_ murder?” The receptionist called out from behind the counter.

“Not yours specifically. The heir. I’ve got the documents to prove it and everything. Can I speak to officer Burns?”

The receptionist raised her head above the counter. “You want to speak to a detective?”

“Burns specifically. In a way, this is all his fault.”

A few minutes later, Burns appeared from down a corridor and approached Ryan with open arms. A devilish grin was plastered across his face.

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting to see you here for at least another day.” Burns said smugly. He came with the other officer and an international investigator. “So, I suppose you’ve found the killer to be-“

-“fratricide.” Ryan tossed a copy of the email, as well as a few other minor documents, onto the reception desk.

“… Fratricide?”

“It was the heir. The first in line. Killed his brother. I found the Vagabond’s apartment and his email login, and the rest is history.”

For some reason, the international investigator did not look too pleased while Burns looked beside himself.

“Oh that’s great to hear. We can hand this whole case to you lot-“ Burns said, but the international investigator cut him off.

“Where did you say you found the evidence?” the investigator asked Ryan.

“The Vagabond’s apartment. I’ll bring the rest of it over when-“

-“The address, Detective Rogers. What’s the address?”

The grin Burns wore grew impossibly bigger. “Yeah, Haywood, what’s the address?”

Ryan hesitated.

“Um, I mean, the apartment’s not exactly important now, is it?”

“Spit it out, Haywood.” Burns said. “Do you want the investigators out of your hair or what?”

Ryan sighed, and gave them the address.

The investigator spoke rapidly into her phone and stalked off. Burns eyed her as she departed, and then his eyes settled on Ryan and Jeremy.

“Fratricide. Looks like you’re off the hook.” Burns said. “At least, until the investigators pack up and move out.”

“There’s a real funny thing about planned murder inside a family,” Jeremy said, “especially one as prestigious and wealthy and powerful as the victim’s. It looks real shitty to everyone else. Terrible for a country’s image.” Jeremy grabbed the papers Ryan had deposited on the desk and shoved them in his jacket pockets. “Not good for the exchange rate n’ such. I’m sure those investigators will do the case justice and bring all that damning evidence into the light. The only evidence, I might add.”

The smile faded from Burns face. Jeremy carried on, patting his jacket pocket.

“Pretty sure they won’t sweep it all under the rug and blame their time wasted on the Los Santos Police Department. Yeah, I’m certain that won’t happen.”

Burns took a moment to shoot them a look of unfiltered rage before stalking away himself and barking orders to his inferiors.

Ryan and Jeremy let themselves out of the police office and walked as quick as they could back to their car.

“That apartment’s on the complete other side of the city.” Jeremy said. “We should have a few hours until that mess sorted. Enough time to finish packing up the Agency and fuck off back to base.”

“It’s going to be a shitty day for whoever’s apartment that is.” Ryan added.

“They shouldn’t have had such an easy apartment to break into then.”

“Thank you again for coming up with a plan that didn’t involve my actual apartment.”

“If we ever do something like this again, _you’re_ gonna be _my_ assistant.”

“I don’t think Geoff’d have it any other way.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Geoff said, hauling one of the last boxes into the back of a van, “what did we learn, boys.”

“Cops suck.” Jeremy said.

“You should have already known that. Christ, they’re worse than we are sometimes. And better at blackmailing.”

Their tail had mysteriously vanished once the police realised he was the closest officer to the apartment with the evidence in it. This freed the crew up to start moving boxes back into the van for a speedy getaway.

The drama around the heir murder was starting to pick up as well. News outlets posted the first reports that the murder had in fact been an unfortunate accident, and the foreign investigators were booking flights and taking the evidence with them. There had already been one press conference where they blamed the LSPD for the misleading evidence and slow bureaucracy. They also promised the public they’d do everything they can to get the whole matter cleaned up and the truth known.

The LSPD must be furious with Ryan by now. They could come flying down here any minute.

“Paperwork sucks.” Michael said. “That was a new one for me. And it was all for nothing anyway.”

“That’s how it usually is.” Jack said. “I learned Ryan and Jeremy shouldn’t be left unsupervised.”

“We all knew that.” Gavin butted in.

“Fine. I enjoyed my cushy job as a landlord too much to care about reining you two in.” She narrowed her eyes. “But that’s not my job, that’s Geoff’s. So really this is his fault.”

“No, no.” Ryan said. “Do you want a sound bite, Geoff? I can’t solve the problems I caused by murdering with more murdering, There. Are you happy yet?”

“Not until we’re safely in my apartment. Christ, I can’t wait to sleep in my bed again.”

The others went inside to do a final sweep of the building while Ryan and Jeremy waited outside, guarding the van. Jeremy leaned against the driver-side door and cross his arms.

“Well, Ryan,” Jeremy said, “I think I’ll actually miss being a detective, you know? Not being your trainee, though. Or all the paperwork.”

“I’ll miss Detective Roger Davis. He was…”

Everything Ryan wanted the Vagabond to be. Smart, and cunning, and got the job done without the aura of fear and mystery that surrounded the Vagabond. No-one thought he was a weirdo, unapproachable, a loner. People _liked_ Detective Roger Davis. But he had the same flaws.

It seemed no matter what he did, who he was, those flaws would follow him. And they’d cause problems for the people around him.

One day they wouldn’t put up with all his mistakes, and then he didn’t know what he’d do.

“He was certainly fond of business cards.” Jeremy finished for him. “Too fond. A cool guy, but I’d trade him for the Vagabond any day of the week.”

“Do you mean that? What if I printed my own business cards?”

“Of course I mean it.” Jeremy’s expression softened, and he made sure he had all of Ryan’s attention before continuing. “The Vagabond can do whatever he wants, whatever makes him happy. The crew’ll be behind him. Rimmy Tim especially.”

Ryan leaned against the van next to him. “Maybe I could go on one of those… what did you call it? A murder hiatus?”

They paused to listen to the sound of police sirens getting closer.

“Please don’t go on one right at this very moment,” Jeremy said, “I think those sirens are for us.”

“Yeah, I think the Vagabond is exactly what we need right now. You don’t suppose we packed any guns we could very quickly unpack?”

“I don’t know, but I do know there’s a box of grenades within easy reach.”

“Even better.”


End file.
